Spanish Dancer - The Cigarette 1904

Robert Henri's 'Spanish Dancer - The Cigarette’ is alive with bravura brushwork and theatrical lighting. Looking at this, I imagine Henri, brush in hand, circling his subject, maybe mumbling to himself as he tries to capture the essence of this figure. The paint looks thin, almost watery, in places, allowing the canvas to breathe through the image, while in others, there are globs and smears of pigment suggesting quick and decisive gestures. The dancer’s face and hands emerge from the shadows, luminous against the deep red of her shawl. I wonder if she was patient, or if she fidgeted as Henri painted her? There is a casualness, an intimacy, to the way Henri depicts her, similar to the portraits by Manet and the Ashcan School. She has one of those enigmatic expressions – like the Mona Lisa – is she amused, bored, or just lost in thought as she smokes? It's all part of this ongoing, unspoken dialogue that artists have with each other, reaching across time and space to spark new ideas, and new ways of seeing. And maybe it all comes down to this: painting is as much about questions as it is about answers.